


Rules and Responsibility

by Jenetica



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Generation Gap, Safe Sane and Consensual, Smut, Stiles is a sex god, there's some oedipal vibes in here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-29
Updated: 2013-10-29
Packaged: 2017-12-30 21:21:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1023526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenetica/pseuds/Jenetica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Melissa McCall is a responsible woman, above all else. But when Stiles Stilinski comes home the summer after his sophomore year in college dripping sexual tension like a leaky pipe, well, what's a girl to do? Melissa's only human, after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rules and Responsibility

**Author's Note:**

> Hi. So... this is like 1000 words exposition/angsting, and 4000 words sexytiems. 
> 
> Yeah, I'm not sure what to say. Read it, maybe love it, comment if it's awful. 
> 
> Un-beta'd.

Melissa McCall was a responsible woman, above all else. She had moved out of her parents' house the day she turned eighteen and she'd never asked for a dime since. She worked her way through college and nursing school, and she bought her first house when she was twenty-three. Scott's father hadn't ever really been there, even when he was still pretending to love her. And she might have been heart-broken when he left, but she was never bereft. Melissa didn't do helpless. Even when she was twenty-five, with a baby that had severe asthma and a mortgage that refused to go away, she wasn't helpless.  
  
She repeated that mantra to herself as she did the dishes, steadfastly ignoring the two boys play-wrestling in her front yard. Scott had stayed close to home for college, but Stiles had gotten a scholarship to UC Berkeley so he wasn't around as much. Melissa knew Scott hated being separated from Stiles. They texted every day and Skyped on weekends. And when Stiles came home for breaks, well, it was damn near a cause for celebration.  
  
Scott had grown into a fine young man, short like her but broad like his father, and with a heart of gold. Stiles, though…. Melissa cleared her throat and scrubbed at a stubborn stain on a plate. The thoughts came anyway, no matter how hard she tried to push them away. _Rebound effect_ , her mind supplied helpfully, _in which a thought returns with increasing frequency following suppression_. Psychology 101 was going to trail her until the end of her days, it seemed.  
  
Well, there was no use fighting a thought that refused to leave. Stiles had done a lot more than just grow up. As a kid, he'd been knobby-kneed and hyperactive, singing stupid pop songs off-key and leaving messes wherever he walked. Melissa had legitimately wondered if the kid did it on purpose for a while, until his dad had put him on ADHD meds. Teenaged Stiles was quieter, still awkward but less spastic, more thoughtful. Then again, he'd spent a majority of his adolescence fighting supernatural evil, so maybe it hadn't exclusively been the Adderall keeping him grounded.  
  
Melissa hated the supernatural with all her heart. She hated how it had infected these kids, her stupidly noble son and his comic relief best friend, and taken their childhood from them. Becoming a werewolf had cured Scott of his asthma, but it risked his life in so many more ways. She never knew when the phone would ring with bad news.  
  
Melissa McCall wasn't helpless, but if Scott died? She wasn't sure if there would be any help _to_ have.  
  
"Ouch, shit, dude," Stiles' voice rang out, loudly enough that Melissa could hear it through the window. "Fragile human, remember?" He was clutching his side and grimacing, and Melissa mentally steeled herself for what was coming.  
  
"Oh, man, I'm sorry," Scott said. "Let's go inside, I bet Mom can fix it." Like clockwork, that kid. Melissa slid off her rubber gloves and fetched the first aid kit from the bathroom. She had just returned to the dining room when Stiles and Scott stumbled in, covered in sweat.  
  
"Shoes off in the doorway," she reminded them. "What'd you do?"  
  
Scott flushed guiltily. "I think I clawed him."  
  
Melissa inhaled. "Is that--?"  
  
"No," Stiles interrupted her, "Lydia came up with an antivenin a few months ago, I've got some in my bag. I'll be fine."  
  
"And no one thought to tell me?" Melissa asked, hating how out-of-the-loop she was, even now. She couldn't protect her son if she didn't know what was happening. Even if Scott no longer needed her protection, in the strictest sense of the term.  
  
"I will fill you in as soon as you patch me up," Stiles promised, wincing. Blood was starting to show through his shirt, and Melissa bit the inside of her lip.  
  
"I'm holding you to that. Shirt off." Stiles tugged off his shirt in one fluid motion, hissing when it stretched his wounds. Had he got even more muscular? Melissa watched the play of his muscles as he lowered his arms, lean biceps leading up to a perfectly shaped deltoid, across his triangular pectorals and down his flat, firm stomach. He didn't have a six-pack, but he definitely didn't need one. His waist tapered into slim hips, arrowing down to the line of hair that disappeared into his athletic shorts.  
  
"Mrs. McCall?"  
  
"Melissa," she corrected him, blushing for losing her train of thought. "You'll need stitches." She grabbed the appropriate materials and gestured toward the kitchen counter. "Hop up and raise your arm."  
  
"I love it when you get bossy," he said cheekily, doing as she asked. Melissa fought down a very inappropriate comment and tore open the alcohol swab.  
  
"Quick sting," she warned him before cleansing the wound. Stiles inhaled, nostrils flaring, but didn't make a sound. Melissa could remember when he would wail if he got so much as a mosquito bite. Like she said, he'd done much more than just grow.  
  
She stitched the wounds closed efficiently, grateful for her mask of professionalism. It prevented her from noticing just how good he smelled, and how close she was to the dusky nipple that had hardened as soon as the alcohol had touched his skin. Okay, it _almost_ prevented her from noticing those things. She was only human.  
  
Scott was apologizing profusely in the background, but Melissa tuned him out easily. Stiles was watching her quietly, breathing even, and it was one of the more unsettling things Melissa had ever experienced. She felt like an ant under a microscope, stretched out and lit up. Stiles was shirtless, but she was the exposed one, here. She laid gauze over the wounds and taped it on, careful to avoid touching his skin for too long.  
  
"Scott," Stiles said, cutting his friend off, "you take the first shower."  
  
"Are you sure?" Scott asked, eyes in full-on puppy mode. He was almost wringing his hands, he was so worried. "You should get cleaned up, I'm fine."  
  
"Scott," Stiles insisted. "Go. I need to drink that antivenin, and I'll have to waterproof myself. It's no big."  
  
"You're sure?" Scott asked, crossing his arms.  
  
"Go."  
  
"Alright. Sorry I tore you up on your first day home."  
  
"It wouldn't be Beacon Hills if I didn't get my ass handed to me at least once a week," Stiles joked, scratching at his hair ruefully. Melissa got to work packing up the first aid kit. Armpit hair wasn't supposed to be sexy on _anyone_ , least of all her son's best friend. She needed to get a grip.  
  
Scott left to take his shower, leaving Stiles and Melissa alone in the kitchen. Melissa felt the silence like a tangible thing, pressing in on her from all directions.  
  
"I'm going to go put this away," she said, avoiding eye contact like the coward she was. "I left the tape on the counter. I trust you can put Ceran Wrap over the gauze."  
  
"Melissa?" It came out like a low purr, the first time Stiles had said her first name out loud. Melissa felt it heat up her belly. She turned to face him, swallowing as she came to face-to-face with his fit musculature.  
  
"Yes?" Oh thank God, that came out nice and strong.  
  
Stiles narrowed his eyes for a moment, considering. He must have reached a decision, because his face split into a wide, easy grin. "Thanks for patching me up. Hope playing Doctor with me wasn't too much of an inconvenience."  
  
Melissa nodded hurriedly and escaped to the downstairs bathroom, the words 'playing Doctor' jangling around in her head like loose keys. Then, because she was a smart woman when she wasn't confronted with real estate of hot man, she put two and two together. The careful observation, the considering look, the obvious innuendo. Stiles knew. It had been less than four hours, and he knew.  
  
Fuck. Melissa thudded her head against the door. She was so fucked.  
  
Back in the kitchen, Stiles started singing "Doctor Love" off-key.  
  
______  
  
The problem with summer break was that it was long, lazy, and hot. To most people, this was a good thing. To Melissa, it was torture. Stiles and Scott spent almost every day together, playing video games or goofing off outside or lying in the hot sun. The former shouldn't have been attractive, and it wouldn't have been, if Stiles hadn't gotten glasses over the course of his second year at college.  
  
"Spent too much time on the computer," he said, when Melissa asked him about them. "I did so much research that I broke my eyes. But I think they're kind of foxy, right? And I only need them when I'm looking at a screen, so it's not that bad."  
  
"And you did this doing research?" Melissa asked skeptically. There was an activity involving computer screens and going blind, but it had nothing to do with looking up supernatural monsters.  
  
Stiles gaped at her for a moment before a filthy grin spread across his face. He leaned into her personal space. "Have to shave my palms, too. It's a damned nuisance, let me tell you."  
  
Unbidden, an image of Stiles sprawled out on his computer chair, glasses askew, stripping his cock furiously, came to Melissa's mind. She felt a wave of heat slide down her spine.  
  
"That must be very uncomfortable," she replied, reminding herself that this boy was three months older than her son. He could be her _child_.  
  
Stiles leaned even closer, and Melissa's attempts to ignore her attraction to him flew out the window. "I manage," he whispered in her ear, a hot breath than tickled the hairs on the side of her neck.  
  
"Hey yo, man, did you get the Doritos, or what?" Scott called from the living room. Stiles straightened, smirking at Melissa.  
  
"Yeah, be right there," Stiles called back, not looking away from Melissa. He grabbed the bag of Doritos and adjusted his glasses on his nose. "See you later, Melissa."  
  
She was going to die a frustrated, embarrassing death. That was it.  
  
Melissa had always thought the puberty was over when she hit twenty. Her hormones calmed down, her acne vanished, and she stopped feeling like an alien in her own skin. But then she'd hit forty, and her hormones came back with a vengeance. Women went two ways, when it came to menopause: some lost their sex drive, and some gained the sex drive of two women. Melissa, unfortunately, was one of the latter. Now, normally, she didn't mind an increased libido too much. Sure, it would be a lot nicer if she had a partner to help take the edge off, but she had toys, and that was usually enough.  
  
But now she had a young, virile man in her life, one that was continually showing off in front of her, and it was all she could do to keep from attacking him like some two-bit cougar. Her toys barely cut it, even when she pulled out all her favorite tricks. Stiles Stilinski was driving her nuts, and she had no idea what to do about it.  
  
Well, she had a very good idea of what to do, but giving into that particular temptation was just _wrong_. Having sex with her son's best friend? It sounded like something straight off of Jerry Springer. No, thank you. But, then again, the treacherous part of her brain argued, there was nothing wrong with sleeping with a young man that obviously wanted you. The way he was flirting with her, Melissa was amazed Scott hadn't figured it out yet.  
  
He might have been brave, but Scott was one of the most oblivious people Melissa had ever seen. She liked to think he got that from his father.  
  
Whatever her moral fiber dictated, biology's call was stronger. Melissa was getting worse and worse around Stiles, and she knew it. In return, Stiles playful flirting had taken on a more serious edge. That's why she wasn't surprised when Stiles drove over during one of Scott's shifts at the veterinary clinic.  
  
"Hello, Stiles," Melissa greeted, turning away to dust imaginary crumbs off the dining room table. "Scott's not here."  
  
"I'm not here for Scott," Stiles said from right behind her. Startled, Melissa spun on her heel only to be confronted with Stiles' chest. "I think we both know that."  
  
"This is wrong, Stiles," Melissa pleaded, feeling her resolve melting away like brown sugar. Hell, she was lucky she had any resolve left to melt. "You have to see how this is wrong."  
  
"I can see why you think it's wrong," Stiles conceded, tilting his head down at her. "To you, I'm the kid that hung around Scott until he decided to befriend me. To me, you're… well, it's different."  
  
"Tell me," Melissa breathed. She found that she desperately wanted to know what Stiles saw in her. "Tell me, Stiles."  
  
And he actually blushed, cheeks turning dark pink. "To me? You're every wet dream I've had since I was thirteen."  
  
"What?" Melissa gasped, stunned. "But, Lydia?"  
  
Stiles grinned self-deprecatingly. "A smart, confident, independent girl with a love for science and the attitude of a whip? Melissa, I never liked Lydia. But she was the you I was allowed to dream about. She was the name I could use when I talked to Scott about jerking off."  
  
That was… overwhelming. Hot, yes-- God, they could serve that up after dinner, it was so sweet-- but it was almost too much for Melissa to handle. "I don't know what to say."  
  
Stiles' gaze dropped to her lips. "Then let me do the talking. Or, better yet, let's not talk at all." Their lips met in the middle, Stiles bending at the neck while Melissa arched her spine to reach up. Stiles took total control of the kiss, curling his tongue around hers at the same time that his hands tugged her closer to his hips. Melissa went freely, falling headfirst into the first contact she'd had since her last failed date, two years ago. Stiles licked along her teeth, drawing a high-pitched moan out of her that she wasn't aware she could produce.  
  
Stiles broke away to place hot, open-mouthed kisses down her neck. "Wanted you for so long," he told her between kisses. "God, you taste good. Makes me want to taste you all over."  
  
Oh, Melissa would definitely be okay with that. "Bedroom?" she suggested breathlessly.  
  
Stiles popped away from her in a heartbeat. His eyes were almost black with lust. "Fuck yes."  
  
Melissa took a deep, fortifying breath and walked toward the stairs, hearing Stiles follow close behind her. She climbed the stairs slowly, letting her hips sway with the movement. After weeks of watching Stiles flaunt his body at her, it felt good to be the seductive one, for once.  
  
Apparently it worked, because Stiles grabbed her shoulders and pressed her into the wall as soon as he hit the second floor. "Jesus, Melissa," he moaned raggedly. He kissed her desperately, hands moving down to grope at her ass. "I'm warning you, I may not survive this."  
  
Melissa laughed in short pants of air. "That makes two of us." Internal combustion was a high possibility, at this rate. "Let's die in the bedroom, though, okay?"  
  
Stiles grinned. "Yeah."  
  
Melissa had never been more grateful that her house was small, because her bedroom was a few short steps from their current position against the wall. Once there, Stiles immediately pulled off his t-shirt, exposing the trim torso Melissa had become mortifyingly familiar with over the past few weeks. But now she got to _touch_.  
  
She felt along his ribs, first, tracing the new skin over the long scratches on his side. They had healed well. His skin was hot to the touch and firm, and Melissa delighted in how she could feel the muscles of his stomach moving in counterpoint to her fingers. Stiles let her rub every square inch of exposed skin, even the obviously ticklish spot just under his sternum. Melissa could very much respect that kind of control. Very, very much.  
  
That control wavered, however, when Melissa permitted herself to taste. Stiles gasped when her tongue reached out to circle a nipple, and he muffle a whimper when she bit down on it. "Responsive," she commented against the nub. "Good. I like that."  
  
Stiles' hands fluttered over the hem of her shirt. "Can I…?" Melissa tore off her scrubs-- she had taken the morning shift and had been too lazy to change into anything else-- and moved back into the heat of Stiles' body, now wearing nothing but her underwear. She regretted not picking something sexier than cotton panties with a mismatched bra, but, judging by the way Stiles' eyes dilated, he didn't mind one bit.  
  
"Fuck, you're so sexy," he whispered, thumbing the strap curled over her left shoulder. "Every girl I've ever been with has been all lace and satin. Not you. You're a real woman. S'awesome."  
  
Melissa bit the inside of her cheek to keep from grinning. Score one for the comfort clothes, then. "I've got lace, too, if you're interested."  
  
Stiles shut his eyes. "You keep saying these things and I will actually explode. You'll be cleaning me off the floor ten years from now."  
  
Melissa dropped her hands to rest on his belt buckle, coy. "I was planning on doing that anyway," she replied, smirking knowingly. Stiles' hips jerked up into the almost non-existent press of her fingers on his lower belly. He grabbed at her, kissing her with young, earnest passion. Melissa drank it up greedily, refusing to allow feelings of guilt to weigh on her mind. Stiles was a consenting adult who wanted her. Why should Melissa fight that?  
  
So, instead of fighting, she let her hands undo his belt and pop the button on his jeans. Stiles rewarded her by sucking her tongue into his mouth, which was followed by one hand reaching up to undo the clasp of her bra.  
  
One-handed, eh? This kid had skills.  
  
As if on cue, Stiles started speaking again. "Practiced so much for this," he breathed between kisses, pushing Melissa's bra down her arms slowly. "I've taught myself everything, hoping this would happen. Gonna treat you so good."  
  
Melissa was very much on board with that idea. She dropped to her knees and yanked Stiles' jeans down to the ground. He lifted each leg as she pulled off his shoes and socks, then the legs of his pants. "Oh? So what's your game plan, Stiles?"  
  
But Stiles was too busy staring down at her with something like dumb awe in his eyes. "What?"  
  
Melissa laughed and rose to her feet. "Game plan?"  
  
"Right," Stiles said, shaking his head as if to clear it. He took a step closer, tracing her collarbones with the fingertips of both hands. "I want to eat you out. Is that okay?"  
  
Melissa about fell over. "Yeah," she replied shakily. "Yes, that is very much okay." She sat on the bed. "How do you want me?"  
  
"Loaded question," Stiles responded, kneeling at her feet. He traced the line of her underwear where her thigh joined her hip, and Melissa was ever-so-grateful she'd taken up yoga last year. "May I?"  
  
Melissa lifted her hips wordlessly, and Stiles carefully drew the panties down her legs. When he was done, he stared at the vee of her hips like a starving man. "Um, lay back and scooch to the edge of the bed."  
  
Melissa did as she was told, feeling vulnerable. No one had ever done this to her before, and having Stiles Stilinski examine her downstairs was pretty damn intimidating.  
  
"God, you're gorgeous," Stiles breathed, drawing a single finger up the inside of her thigh. Melissa bit her lip, lust warring with embarrassment. Lust won, however, the instant Stiles pressed his lips to her clit.  
  
"Oh my God," Melissa gasped. Stiles grinned against her and slid his tongue slowly up her slit, barely pressing inside her entrance.  
  
"I did this a lot, too," he whispered, like he was sharing a secret with her core that her head wasn't privy to. "Always pretended it was you. Learned everything I could for this." And with that, he dove in, just about literally. His nose pressed against her clit when his tongue was prodding at her entrance, and when his tongue replaced his nose, his fingers came up to curl inside her. Melissa fell into the dusky seas of pleasure, feeling each sensation course through her like a rip tide. Stiles really did know his stuff, because she was on the edge of coming within minutes.  
  
"Close," she whispered, rolling her hips up to meet his lips. Stiles made a noise of contentment and pressed the flat of his tongue against her clit, so when she rolled her hips she dragged herself over the entire muscle. He was letting her ride him, she realized. With that, she came, hissing his name into the heated air. Stiles let her ride out her orgasm and withdrew his fingers slowly, pressing a single kiss to the inside of her thigh.  
  
"Even better than I thought it'd be," he sighed, rubbing wetness from his cheeks with the back of his hand. Melissa sat up and kissed him, tasting herself on his lips, which was far hotter than it had any right being.  
  
"What about you?" Melissa asked, glancing down at his tented boxers. Stiles sent his cock a disinterested look.  
  
"I'm a patient guy," he said, shrugging. He grinned evilly. "We'll get to me eventually. For now, this is your show. We're nowhere near done yet."  
  
That's it, Melissa realized. She was going to die an early, sexy death, and Stiles Stilinski was to blame. Somewhere, the irony gods were laughing at her.  
  
Three more orgasms later, Melissa was pretty sure an early and sexy death was the best thing she could ask for. Her mind was a swirl of lazy, warm colors, and everything felt good. Stiles was openly moaning into her cunt now, mouth desperate in a way it hadn't been before. Melissa swatted half-heartedly at his head, buried between her thighs.  
  
"Stop, I'm fine. Fuck, I'm way better than fine. Get up here."  
  
Stiles rushed to comply, pressing his crotch urgently into the crease of her hip. Melissa, past the point of acting shy, pushed his boxers down with both hands and reached for the condom laying on the nightstand. She rolled it onto Stiles in a practiced move that left him groaning and pushed him into position between her legs. The head of Stiles' cock brushed her slit, and both of them exhaled sharply. Still, Stiles took the time to send Melissa a warning glance.  
  
"You're sure?" he checked, cheeks blotchy with color.  
  
And Melissa loved him right then, this beautiful, considerate boy that would go down on her for almost an hour and ask for nothing in return. She was so proud of the man he had become, the man he was becoming. It was like watching the Mona Lisa come to life. "I'm sure."  
  
Stiles bit his lip hard and pushed into her slowly. Melissa arched her spine, drawing him into her more fully until he bottomed out. "Fuck," he muttered, "you're so tight. Jesus."  
  
Not Jesus, Ben Wa balls. Well, who was counting?  
  
Melissa clenched around him. "Move, Stiles." He pulled out, shuddering, and slowly drove back in, swirling his hips at the last moment, which sent tingles all through Melissa's body. Stiles built a slow, measured rhythm that felt like it was changing the tectonic plates of Melissa's person. She hadn't had good sex in years and this, well, this was a step above “good.” Her body was loose and pliant from having so many orgasms, even though it was well on its way to the next one. Stiles was a firm but shifting presence over her, pressing his face into her neck one moment and clutching at her shoulders the next.  
  
Slowly, Stiles began to speed up, driving into her with more and more intensity. And, to Melissa's delight, he started to speak. “God, Melissa, you're even better than I'd imagined. Never thought you'd ever let me-- fuck. So much better than, shit, everyone.”  
  
Melissa spared a moment to wonder just how many people was 'everyone,' but she soon realized that she didn't want to know. Some questions were better left unasked. Instead, she let the wave-like sensations of being thoroughly fucked wash over her and forgot about everything else. She'd never had four orgasms in one night-- hell, she was lucky if she made it past _one_ , and it was the type of luck that cost twenty bucks and four AA batteries-- but she was well on her way to her fifth now, and she was definitely going to be upgrading her vibrator, price be damned.  
  
Melissa moaned into the open air when Stiles hit a sweet spot inside of her. Or maybe she'd just invest in Stiles, instead of a vibrator. Yeah, that was definitely smarter.  
  
"I, shit," Stiles hissed, licking a path between Melissa's breasts and up her neck in one long swipe. "I'm close. I--" He shoved one hand to where they were joined and tweaked her clit roughly, and Melissa gasped through her orgasm. Her _fifth_ , dear God. A moment later, Stiles made a helpless noise and pumped into her, dropping his head to the center of her chest.  
  
They rested like that for a moment, panting and sweaty. Melissa wasn't sure she had the energy to feel awkward, so she didn't try to worry about what all of this meant. So, instead, she said the first thing that came to mind.  
  
"So that's what our tax dollars are helping you kids learn these days?"  
  
Melissa never presumed to be eloquent.  
  
Stiles jerked his head up to look her in the eye and he laughed one of his massive, body-shaking laughs. They both winced at how the movement jostled where they were still joined, and Stiles slid out slowly. "That, and the mitochondrion is the powerhouse of the cell," he replied with a grin, pulling off his condom and tossing it in the trash.  
  
"So I have your super-charged mitochondria to thank, then?" Melissa joked, shuffling up to her elbows. Now that she had her breath back, anxiety was slipping in between her ribs and up her spine. She'd just fucked her son's best friend. _What?_  
  
"That and, like, lots of practice. I spent entire weekends training myself to ignore personal pleasure," Stiles said, shrugging. Melissa tried and failed to stop her thoughts from wandering, but she was too tired to have any form of self-control. The image of Stiles in the computer chair sprang to mind again, this time Stiles grimacing as fought back his orgasm, cock purple and leaking between his legs. _Entire weekends_.  
  
"I'll never be able to look Scott in the eye again," Melissa sighed, thumping back on the bed. Next to her, Stiles stretched out, pressing a long line into her side.  
  
"Nah, give it a week," Stiles drawled lazily. "He's oblivious anyway."  
  
Melissa turned her head to study him with narrowed eyes. "This really doesn't bother you?"  
  
"It did when I was thirteen," Stiles replied, causing Melissa to snort. "I dunno. I've had a lot of time to think about it, I guess, but you watched me grow up. You see the side where I was this kid that lost his mom and had a really long awkward phase. I see a woman that loved me even when my world was abysmal. I never saw you as a mother because I couldn't give up my own mom, but you've always been a monumental part of my person. I grew up loving you and yeah, that love has changed a lot, but it's just part of who I am. I will always love you, in some shape or form. It's as much a part of me as my ADHD. And you're a stone cold fox, especially when you don't try. I'm pretty sure I've developed an unhealthy thing for scrubs."  
  
Melissa laughed and kissed his forehead, feeling a peculiar combination of maternal affection and womanly appreciation for the boy pressed against her side. "At least I'll never have to invest in lingerie."  
  
Stiles shot up, staring at her incredulously. "You'd want to… again?"  
  
"You kidding?" Melissa retorted. "You're here all summer, aren't you? What are we supposed to do, go back to the way things were? Staring at each other when we thought the other wasn't looking? I have a young, sexy sweetheart of a man at my disposal, and I'm not giving that up. We suffered through the dilemma part already, anyway."  
  
Stiles beamed down at her, looking just like the little boy she'd spent the last ten years loving and yet so different. He was a man, now. "Awesome." He flopped back down to the bed, sighing happily.  
  
"You know this won't work long-term, right?" Melissa asked after a minute. She almost regretted the words as soon as she'd said them, but she knew the boundaries needed to be drawn now. She'd been led on and manipulated enough times to know better. "We'll never be in a committed relationship."  
  
Stiles laughed. "Don't worry, I'm not about to ask you to marry me. I love you, but not like that. It's weird, kinda. I thought these things were supposed to conflate, but they don't. I love you, and I'm attracted to you, but they're separate things. I'm not _in_ love with you. If you told me we'd never have sex again, I wouldn't stop loving you. But, like, I'd be disappointed, because that was some biblical-quality sex, right there."  
  
"Plus Scott would be your son-in-law," Melissa noted, biting her lip to keep from laughing. God, he was so _young_. It was refreshing.  
  
"Sweet Jesus," Stiles whispered in horror. "No."  
  
Melissa cackled, sitting up and stretching. She crawled out of bed, feeling sore in all the right ways (for once), and pulled on her scrubs. She needed to shower anyway, no reason to dirty clean clothes.  
  
"Where're you goin'?" Stiles mumbled, scratching unashamedly at his chest. "This is the time for cuddles and nap and things."  
  
"I'm hungry," Melissa replied, pulling her hair into a ponytail. Honestly, cuddling and sleep sounded beautiful to her blissed out body, but it was three in the afternoon and she knew better than to fall asleep with Stiles when Scott was due home in an hour. "Come on, up, I'll make spaghetti."  
  
Stiles groaned loudly and rolled over onto his front. "I get sex _and_ food. This is the best thing _ever_ ," he declared into the pillow.  
  
Melissa rolled her eyes. "Glad you think so."  
  
"Oh, you just wait." He sat up, eyes glittering with promise. "By the end of this summer, you'll be saying it, too. I swear on my comic book collection."  
  
Melissa swallowed instinctually. His comic book collection? He might have sworn on deities. If Stiles was swearing on his comic book collection, she could kiss her summer good-bye with how intensely he meant that promise. "Can't wait."  
  
And, even though it went against every responsible bone in her body, Melissa McCall meant it.  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Yep. No idea where this came from. I'll get back to my fluffy Stydia eventually.
> 
> Happy reading!


End file.
